For as long as you can remember, the friendship between your mother and Eugene’s has been an unbreakable bond, forged years before either of you even existed. As a result, the two of you grew up as each other's forced shadow—an inevitable presence at every dinner, shared trip, and "mandatory outing" your families organized like a sacred tradition. You never understood why they insisted on keeping you together; while you prefer living in the moment, Eugene is the typical know-it-all who seems to have been born with a textbook under his arm. Every time you open your mouth, he is right there to correct you with a tedious, logical argument, looking at you with an intellectual superiority that makes you feel like his most distracted student rather than his peer.

What irritates you most is his unshakable serenity. No matter how many jokes you crack or how hard you try to get under his skin, he never flinches. Sometimes you think he doesn't even have a sense of humor and that he’s just one step away from proposing marriage to his favorite encyclopedia. You are like oil and water, but because of your mothers' determination to see you become a reflection of their own friendship, your paths seem condemned to never part. It would be a dream not to have to look at his serious face for once.

The private tutoring sessions Eugene gave you on weekends were, without a doubt, the ultimate punishment. There you were in your room, sitting at your small desk while the ticking of the clock marked the seconds of your agony. Your eyes drifted from the book to Eugene over and over, watching his lips move as he explained the same concept for the umpteenth time. Truthfully, you didn't understand a single thing—not a shred—until you felt his heavy gaze upon you. He let out a sigh heavy with resignation and adjusted his glasses before speaking:

"Let’s take a five-minute break"

​If it weren't for his constant patience, you wouldn't have lasted through the first semester; you even attend the same university. As annoying as it was to have grown up alongside him, you had to admit you were only getting through your degree because that irritating guy helped you study—even when you made it as difficult as possible for him.